The Eight Days of Hanukkah
by Ijemanja
Summary: Wilson makes an effort. CuddyWilson


Pairing: Cuddy/Wilson, with a side helping of House

**The Eight Days of Hanukkah**

by Ijemanja

* * *

On the first day of Hanukkah...

He tucked an envelope under her plate of mooshoo chicken on the coffee table while she went to the kitchen for drinks. When she returned and opened it up, she found a book of coupons, each good for one free round of red hot loving.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. "It was House's idea."

She pursed her lips and considered the coupons thoughtfully. "And I can claim them whenever I want?"

"That's the idea."

"I'll keep it in mind," she said, and reclaiming her food, settled back to eat.

*

On the second day of Hanukkah...

She was stretched out on the couch in her office, arms thrown over her head as he dug his thumb into the arch of her foot.

"God," she said in a tone that was very close to obscene, "You went into the wrong specialty."

"Podiatry? I don't know, there was just something so glamorous about cancer."

She opened one eye a crack. "You're a glutton for punishment."

"So are you. Just look at your shoes."

*

On the third day of Hanukkah...

He spent the day keeping House busy, which meant playing x-box for two hours, taking him to lunch, and inventing a game involving the roof of the hospital, two fire extinguishers, a bed pan, and a reckless disregard for the state of anyone's clothing. Escorting him to and from clinic duty and bribing him to complete it, while less fun, was still doable. The result was keeping House out of Cuddy's hair all day - she didn't so much as catch a glimpse of him or hear one single complaint.

That evening, worn out and rather bedraggled, Wilson went and found her as she was getting ready to leave. He held her coat for her and asked, "How was your day?"

"Boring," she said, and smiled.

*

On the fourth day of Hanukkah...

It was Saturday morning and he spent it washing her car, hauling old furniture from her garage out to the curb for charity collection, fixing her shower rod, and changing the washers on no less than three different taps.

He spent the afternoon stretched out on the sofa with his head in her lap.

"So this is what it's like to have a man around the house," she mused, running her fingers idly through his hair.

"This," he replied, "Is why I usually pay people to do these things for me."

*

On the fifth day of Hanukkah...

He made her a mountain of latkes, his grandmother's secret recipe. They were amazingly good and she ate far too many, ignoring the carbs and thinking that watching him move around her kitchen in an apron with his sleeves rolled up was the best part of all.

*

On the sixth day of Hanukkah...

She looked up to find him ushering House through the doors, the latter looking mutinous, the former quietly confident.

"House has something he wants to say to you," Wilson told her.

"Who me?" House, not surprisingly, feigned ignorance.

"Say it, or..." he trailed off in a mildly threatening manner.

House rolled his eyes. "Fine. You're not... a terrible doctor - well, you're not the worst doctor I've ever met, anyway. And you look great in a tight skirt. There, can I go now?"

"Keep going."

"But it's _lame_," House whined, "It sounds like something you would say."

"House."

"Okay, jeez. I'm lucky tohaveyouforaboss." Spinning on his heel he made a beeline for the door, though not before tossing over his shoulder, "And you have terrible taste in men."

Grinning widely, she watched him go before shifting her gaze. "What do you have on him?"

Holding out his hands, Wilson said, "I can't tell you. But it worked. Sort of. That was... almost exactly what I told him to say."

"It's the thought that counts. Besides, it's not like he wasn't right." He looked at her, alarmed, and she shrugged. "What? You don't think I look good in a tight skirt?"

*

On the seventh day of Hanukkah...

He went with the old standby, because jewellery was a sure bet and he was running out of ideas.

She got up to admire herself in the hall mirror and when she came back, she was brandishing a small slip of paper. Climbing onto his lap, she tucked it in his shirt pocket with a wide grin before pulling him into a kiss.

"Damn," he said when she released his mouth and went to work on his throat, "I hate it when House is right."

*

On the eighth day of Hanukkah...

"This is all I really wanted," she said. They were stretched out on the rug with glasses of wine, watching the menorah, all nine candles filling the room with a warm glow.

"So me killing myself for you this past week...?" he questioned mildly.

"Merely a bonus. But very sweet."

There was quiet again for a few moments.

"I researched plumbing on the internet for you."

"Shh."


End file.
